It turned out to be a fantastic discovery - (the excitement of stumbling upon something new).....in so many ways - just as most good films tend to be. It was complex, nuanced, layered, visual, non-linear and pushed the envelope of imagination in ways that other media cannot too easily. Of course this is a statement which can easily be challenged, so let me just say that this is true for me.
The film seems to have come into being around the story of a young man in his late teens, Abdullah, who has returned after having been gone for over 15 years to this little village in Mauritania. It is presumably somewhere in the Sahara, and the film makes good use of the stark beauty of the desert landscape.
Abdullah does not speak Hassaniya, the local language any more, and therefore cannot communicate with any one. Often lying in his bed, with its small square window, he whiles time away watching life outside, and little seems to register or interest him. However, even through that small aperture into the village, we see a lot of interesting little details, including one shot of a TV being carried. There is life outside, the times are changing and modernity is creeping in to this remote desert as well. We could easily believe Abdullah's version of the world - boring with little to make life interesting, till we get to know some of the people in that world.
There is the electrician, Maata, who cares for an orphan boy who is also his apprentice in the trade. We do not know where Maata came from, but he does not seem local. We do not know about the boy's roots either. They obviously have no one but each other. Their relationship is full of love, caring and respect for each other, as they hang on to each other in their rather fragile existence. Maata's parenting is somewhat comic, but genuine and touching, and it is charming to see the boy accept this rather clumsy effort.
Then we see the little girl who is learning to sing from an older teacher who obviously seems as interested in passing on something precious to someone who she seems to think is a worthy keeper of the art. Here again is a pure relationship, with art and with another person, a relationship that transcends any sense of selfish interest.
The village prostitute, was once in love with this Chinese salesperson, who sold gadgets and trinkets on street corners. We do not see Vincent speak, but we later learn she loved him a lot, and even had a child with him. She once traveled to Europe to find Vincent and tell him in person that the child did not survive.
We see all these and many more nuances of life there, the loss of tradition, the trying to retain the precious, the resolve to be happy in the most trying of places, the joy of togetherness and company, the longing for the basic human needs of love and connection, and the longing to be with one's own people elsewhere (for those who have come here and stayed). Maata seems not to be originally from here and reacts rather sadly to talk about leaving.
And, there is the desperate effort to bring that outside world to the people who find its ways strange. Maata the electrician is trying to electrify Abdullah's room so he could watch TV. When we see a TV program in another context it is running some French show. Abdullah makes weak attempts to connect. He interacts occasionally with the little boy (Maata's assistant) and tries to learn some words. A group of women who invite him to tea find his attempts to learn the language very amusing. But they all have tried to accept him and tried to make him one of them. Like so many others before him, as we see through the obviously different races there, people have come before and stayed. And while this coming and going on of people goes on, there remains a wonderful little world of rich humanity in the middle of that wilderness, where we would not look, where we least expect it.
I discovered Oumani Sangare, the Malian singer. What a lovely voice. I had not seen Mauritania before, now I think I have had a small peep.
The valet at the hotel who got me a cab the next evening is from Ethiopia. I mentioned the movie to him. He told me that he thought "Mother India" (Nargis), was one of the best movies he had seen. The cab driver also from Ethiopia, heard us talk and told me later that he too had seen 'Mother India' several times and in that corner of the world, where English and Hindi were equally strange tongues, the people chose to watch Bollywood. Just like I have been surprised by its reach in strange corners of the world, I was somewhat ashamed to hold my own country's industry in low regard. Perhaps what it doles out make meaning to a lot of people not only within the country but around the world. I am not sure, but the evidence does not agree with my own thoughts. I will leave it at that.
I did meet people who had brought that liking with them to another part of the world, where in its strangeness and perhaps coldness, they had each other (Why are there so many people from North Africa in Columbus OH?), and films from another strange land whose language they did not understand, but made them happy.
The village prostitute, was once in love with this Chinese salesperson, who sold gadgets and trinkets on street corners. We do not see Vincent speak, but we later learn she loved him a lot, and even had a child with him. She once traveled to Europe to find Vincent and tell him in person that the child did not survive.
We see all these and many more nuances of life there, the loss of tradition, the trying to retain the precious, the resolve to be happy in the most trying of places, the joy of togetherness and company, the longing for the basic human needs of love and connection, and the longing to be with one's own people elsewhere (for those who have come here and stayed). Maata seems not to be originally from here and reacts rather sadly to talk about leaving.
And, there is the desperate effort to bring that outside world to the people who find its ways strange. Maata the electrician is trying to electrify Abdullah's room so he could watch TV. When we see a TV program in another context it is running some French show. Abdullah makes weak attempts to connect. He interacts occasionally with the little boy (Maata's assistant) and tries to learn some words. A group of women who invite him to tea find his attempts to learn the language very amusing. But they all have tried to accept him and tried to make him one of them. Like so many others before him, as we see through the obviously different races there, people have come before and stayed. And while this coming and going on of people goes on, there remains a wonderful little world of rich humanity in the middle of that wilderness, where we would not look, where we least expect it.
I discovered Oumani Sangare, the Malian singer. What a lovely voice. I had not seen Mauritania before, now I think I have had a small peep.
The valet at the hotel who got me a cab the next evening is from Ethiopia. I mentioned the movie to him. He told me that he thought "Mother India" (Nargis), was one of the best movies he had seen. The cab driver also from Ethiopia, heard us talk and told me later that he too had seen 'Mother India' several times and in that corner of the world, where English and Hindi were equally strange tongues, the people chose to watch Bollywood. Just like I have been surprised by its reach in strange corners of the world, I was somewhat ashamed to hold my own country's industry in low regard. Perhaps what it doles out make meaning to a lot of people not only within the country but around the world. I am not sure, but the evidence does not agree with my own thoughts. I will leave it at that.
I did meet people who had brought that liking with them to another part of the world, where in its strangeness and perhaps coldness, they had each other (Why are there so many people from North Africa in Columbus OH?), and films from another strange land whose language they did not understand, but made them happy.
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